Title: Dancin' Fool
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Bob origin story, so, somewhen between Clerks and 
Mallrats
Rating: Songfic. I think it's going to be my only Destiny's Child 
songfic. I apologize in advance. And oh, boy, is this NC-17.
Status: New; posted 6 November 2002
Archive: The traditional places. If you don't know what the 
traditional places are, you might want to write and ask. And here's 
how:
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequels: Well, ren says this is a stand-alone, so I'm 
deferring to her superior understanding of my work. (*snort!*). 
Disclaimers: Kevin Smith, View Askew Productions, Jason Mewes, Scott 
Mosier, and Miramax have creative control and ownership of Jay and 
Silent Bob. I am just an insignificant slasher who wants the boys to 
have fun now that they've retired. I'm not even charging them.
Notes: This is such a weird, weird thing, but it crawled under my 
skin and worked its way into the brain and I was stuck with it. Had 
to. Had to. So sorry. :> (Oh, and ren? The bald girl's name is 
Tip. Don't know why. Maybe she'll tell you. I've forwarded her to 
Australia, but you know my characters--they sometimes take that wrong 
left turn and end up in starla instead. Guess it sounds the same to 
them.)
Also: Quite properly, because I'm compulsive, I think this should be 
credited to ren and I, not just me, because she beta'd with ATTITUDE 
on this one, and I went with most of her suggestions. She'll prolly 
claim it's all me, she just dusted it off, and phhht on that.
Summary: Jay gets jealous. Bob dances. Strike that, reverse it--
Bob dances, *then* Jay gets jealous. Many people have less fun than 
they should, and two people have more fun than is legal in most 
states.
Warnings: Fat man dancing; skinny man tension; homosexuality (ACTIVE, 
nigh-CONSTANT). Bad language. Bob on drugs for once. And sex. An 
intimations of het sex. And indications of het sex deprivation. 
Flirting, dancing, women being very aggressive. And did I mention 
the sex?
Dedication: To ren, for the...pleasure?...of beta-ing this weird 
thing. Thanks. Couldn't have gotten it right without you. Hint, 
drop, thud.

"Dancin' Fool"
by Kelandris


*Betta move, cuz we've arrived
Lookin' sexy, lookin' fly
Baddest chicks, in sight
DJ, jam tonight*

So, here they were. Another Saturday night, and he was all alone 
again. Naturally. Sitting at some round graniteware table, like 
every other 80's-spatter graniteware table in town, nursing a beer. 
At some bar. Some bar somewhere he could be abandoned. 

He watched Jay walk away, pursing his lips slightly, wondering why it 
was so important for Jay to bring him places and then fuck off. He 
was getting used to being abandoned, but that didn't mean he liked 
it. And how much of a bodyguard was he supposed to be if he wasn't 
supposed to follow?

At least this place didn't seem as tacky. But that was about the 
only difference. Nice dance floor, large, the edges not squared off 
but rippling, a band of inset blue gleaming so you'd know without a 
doubt when you were within the dancing frame, or on the other side of 
it.

He nudged the glowing blue strip with his foot. In. Out. In. 
Out. God, he needed a drink. Something with a little fire to it, 
not just hops and malt.

Another Saturday night. Shit, like he needed this one more time.

He drummed his fingers on the table. The beat was infectious. He 
recognized snatches of songs, snatches of tempo and rhythm, but it 
was a musical Cuisinart--everything kept swirling overhead and all he 
heard were shreds and pieces of the original work. It was 
entertaining, even if he didn't quite understand it.

Then a beat picked up that he recognized. His feet tapped in rhythm 
to the drumming of his fingers. A couple danced by and he watched 
the lady's fingers move, setting down something in a heavy glass 
tumbler on his table. It clinked in a very particular way, good 
booze and clear ice against clear glass. And there she went, hand 
drawing back, lady drawing back.

Lady leaving. Lady gone.

Oh. Temptation.

He licked his lips, watching them go, and then picked up the drink, 
swallowing three sips of it in quick succession. Bourbon. Nice 
caliber, smooth on the tongue, warming down the throat. Slight hint 
of bitter lemon at the finish, oddly enough, and suddenly it seemed 
like his throat was coated with oil. What the fuck?

*Spotted me a tender thang
There you are, come on baby
Don't you wanna dance with me
Can you handle, handle me?*

Before he had a chance to really think things out, his whole body 
suddenly flushed with heat. He nearly dropped the glass he still 
held. He shook his head to clear it, taking off his ballcap and 
shaking his hair back. The cap fell to the floor. He never 
noticed. The glass he set on the edge of the grey table fell off a 
half second after he left; he never noticed that, either.

He rose from the table slowly, as the music oozed into something more 
recognizable. He felt loose and fluid at once, and moved away from 
the table without a backwards glance. He stepped over the line, 
shaking his hair back, blinking stars out of his vision. Yeah. He 
remembered this. He remembered liking this. Sometime, very long 
ago, he'd done this. He'd done exactly this.

Bob danced. Slow at first, and then he picked up speed, moving 
deeper into the crowd. For once the boy was occupied, the boy was 
off doing something. Or doing someone. And for once, Bob didn't 
care he was doing--as long as he was doing it far *away*, that was 
the main thing. As long as he was *away*, Bob could dance. Bob 
could dance like he used to, before he'd met Jay. Before Jay's 
natural rhythm, natural loose-boned movements eroded his self-
confidence. 

Oh, he was fast for a fat man, he had his own rhythm, his own beat, 
but Jay... Jay was in a whole new class. He was rude and crude and 
unrefined, but he'd turn on that dime if he wanted to, and suddenly, 
he was up close against you, jiving, thrusting, writhing full-on like 
you were his *only* real lover...Well. 

Bob shook his head, pushing into the crowd. The music had gone 
industrial some time between the table and the dance floor. Blend of 
Quarashi and Disturbed, a little dash of Remy Zero, a pinch of 
something dark and blood-dangerous...it made him a little self-
conscious at first, kept him tense and stiff. 

But then they put on Destiny's Child.

*You gotta do much better if you gon' dance with me tonight
You gotta work your jelly if you gon' dance with me tonight
Read my lips carefully if you like what you see
Move, groove, prove you can hang with me*

Oh, yeah. He shrugged out of his trench, tossing it behind him onto 
an empty circle of table. He tossed around an intense glare as well, 
to anyone who might want to walk away with the leather. As expected, 
several dancers backed up, shaking their heads. Oh, no. No trouble 
with the big boy.

Good.

He plunged back into the morass of moving flesh and fabric, loosening 
up, cracking his head from side to side. Then he started dancing. 
Dancing. And it was only about a minute on the floor before he 
noticed he had people dancing with him.

*By the looks I got you shook up and scared of me
Buckle your seatbelt, it's time for takeoff*

Fuck `people'. He had *women*. He had *women* dancing alongside 
him, and all those cracks about his fat tubby ass that Jay loved to 
toss his way began to erode. He looked out, barely smiling, and 
caught the eyes of the nearest damsel in spike heels.

She giggled, and moved closer.

*Oh*, yeah.

He danced. He spun one girl out, reeling her back in, and for a 
single moment she was pressed against him, rotating her hips in a 
very familiar pattern. It made certain parts of him ache--he hadn't 
felt *that* particular pattern in over a year. Fuckin' Jay, always 
taunting him, always telling him about the sluts he dated, how they'd 
fucked everybody, how they'd fucked *him*, and didn't they have any 
taste and style?

Wore on a man's self-confidence, it did. But right now, he didn't 
care. He leaned in, smelling the good clean scent of her copper 
hair, and she giggled, running a hand along his jawline, down his 
neck. She paused, and he felt a fingertip press in along his 
throat. He pulled back a little, feeling. There was now a little 
cloth circle on his neck, about a quarter inch in diameter. She 
turned slightly, still dancing, and quirked her eyebrows at him. He 
smiled.

Well, why the fuck not? Jay always pulled this shit. Maybe Bob 
should find out why. And he started jiving again, wrapping his arms 
around Copper-hair and pulling her tight against him.

*I don't think you ready for this jelly
I don't think you ready for this jelly
I don't think you ready for this
Is my body too bootylicious for you babe?*

They moved as a unit, and he listened to her breathing pick up about 
the same time that he realized he was getting hard. He grinned, 
spinning her out again, figuring that was safer than losing the 
ability to dance with a full erection. Not that he'd ever tried 
before.

He pulled her back, and there were more hands on his arms, and 
suddenly they were everywhere. All around him. 

Girls. He was surrounded by girls. Some were short, some were 
tall. One was black. One was blonde. Ms. Copper-hair hadn't left, 
and the one beside her was pretty, smoothly bald. Her large amused 
green eyes were thickly shadowed in teal glitter.

And Bob looked up, realizing how much everything was glittering, and 
didn't care. He was just hard enough to want everyone, and not yet 
hard enough to be clumsy on the floor, and man, but he was enjoying 
this shit. Hands with fingertips painted red, purple, green and 
white curled around his arms, over his shoulders, and he moved in the 
small mass of women, moving them with him. Man. He could die happy, 
right here.

They spread out from him a little, and he cracked his neck again. He 
pulled the one closest to him against his chest. She smiled, 
executing some complicated shimmy that left him trembling before she 
stepped slightly away. And they danced together for a bit, moving in 
small circles, the breathing of the girls around them seeming to lift 
them both up, move them through perfumed steam and star shine towards 
the goal.

Whatever the hell the goal was. At this point, Bob didn't know, and 
didn't care.

He looked down into those deep, sparkling green eyes, running one 
hand softly over her depilated cranium. She laughed, her voice low 
and seductive, running her fingertips just under the edges of the 
sleeves of his t-shirt. Oh, man...

*Baby, can you handle this?
Baby, can you handle this?
Baby, can you handle this?
I don't think you can handle this!*

He danced her out a bit, moved her, saw one of the other girls moving 
with her and spun her into the other girl's arms. Hey. That 
worked. They smiled and danced off together, orbiting him like a 
seductive scented satellite, while Ms. Copper-hair came back into his 
arms, turning away from him. Before he could wrap his arms around 
her, she wasn't there anymore. It took a moment for him to realize 
she'd danced down his body, still rotating those hips, and his eyes 
bugged out a bit.

She danced up again, turning to face him, and smiled, her eyes 
dilated.

"Big boy," she breathed. She took his hand. She led him off the 
dance floor. Grinning like a fool, he followed her, to a short, 
shadowed alcove just off the main space.

"Mmm." Wrapping her arms around him, she pushed him against the wall.

"Oh, what I don't want to do to you..."

He heard a rough noise behind her. Before he could react to it, a 
black-nailed hand curled around her shoulder, pulling her roughly 
back. The sight of the scarred knuckles told him more than the sight 
of the snarling face.

Jay.

"Get your paws offa him, beeyotch. That boy awready *gots* someone 
to watch his ass. Back the fuck off."

She turned, pouting attractively, turning to face the blond. Jay 
growled, cocking a hand back. Oh, fuck...Bob lunged forward, 
catching his arm, holding it while Jay struggled against him.

He looked at the girl, seeing his genuine regret mirrored in her 
eyes. He shrugged. She shrugged. Then she returned to the dance 
floor.

*I'm about to break you off
H-town goin' hard
Peep my hips, slap my thighs
Swing my hair, squint my eyes*

Bob released Jay, stepping back towards the shadows. Jay stood 
there, fists clenched, glaring at him.

"What the fuck is your *problem*?" he hissed.

Bob blinked. **My problem? *MY* problem??**

"Think you know so fuckin' much," Jay continued angrily. "Boy, you 
know *shit*. I leave you alone for five minutes and this is the shit 
I come back to, you fuckin' half the girls on the dance floor--"

Bob stepped forward, shaking his head warily.

"Aw, you woulda been, if I hadn't'a come back. You so woulda fucked 
that slut, right here, right fuckin' now, if I hadn't come back."

Bob considered, tilting his head to one side. Yeah. Maybe. He was 
certainly in the mood. Whatever she'd given him--

Well. Like it mattered now, he thought. Sighing, he started to push 
past Jay back to the club, and Jay nearly shrieked, pushing him back 
against the wall.

"Are you fuckin' *nuts*? You gonna go right back in that meat pit 
out there, get your ass raped again? Mother*fuck*..."

Ooh. That thought gave him a sudden shiver. Jay felt it and growled 
a second time, shoving against him.

"Are you *mental*, fat ass? You *want* to be raped?"

*Lookin' hot, smellin' good
Groovin' like I'm from the hood
Look over my shoulder, I blow you a kiss
Can you handle, handle this?*

Jay paused, suddenly, and Bob felt him gulp. He couldn't make out 
his eyes through the shadows, but the boy was pressed up against him, 
his hands fisted in his t-shirt and trembling.

"Do you..." Jay started, and then shuddered.

"Shit," he breathed. He leaned forward, and suddenly Bob felt Jay's 
lips on his, moving over his mouth. He froze, forgetting to breathe, 
and then Jay's tongue was on his lips, his tongue was licking along 
his parted teeth, and now...oh, he could feel Jay getting very hard 
against him. Little hip thrusts as Jay's tongue stroked along his 
palate, licking over every surface. Oh, *man*...

Experimentally, he bucked his hips forward, and Jay moaned, pressing 
closer to him, still kissing him. He pulled back and Jay whimpered. 
Bob fought back a smile.

"Home," he whispered.

"Home," Jay repeated. He dove in to taste Bob again, and Bob shook 
his head, laying a finger along his mouth. Jay licked that, too, Bob 
shuddering while he did.

"*Home,*" he said again, emphasizing the word.

Jay straightened, shivering, shaking his head. "Yeah," he said. He 
sounded dazed. Or drunk. Funny.

"Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Let's go home. Let's go home *right* fuckin' 
now--"

Jay pulled him from their little niche, walking over to the table so 
Bob could shrug into his leather coat, and pulled him from the club. 
They walked to the bus stop, Jay bouncing from foot to foot, looking 
over at him.

"Shit," he said, over and over. "Shit. Shit. Shit--"

Bob looked over, cocking his head.

"Bus's takin' too goddamn long," the blond complained. He looked 
around, twitching.

"Hey. *There*," he said, pointing. Bob looked.

This particular club was next to some little trail-of-spit river, an 
old, arching steel bridge visible about a half mile from where the 
club stood. The ground cut off a patch away from the road, turning 
into scrub and gravel and then rolling downhill to the water. Jay 
ran across the street, beckoning to him.

Bob blinked, wondering why he was taking directions from the stoner 
boy. Then he shrugged, strolling across the street, pulling Jay into 
his arms again when he got there.

"Ohh..."

Jay really kissed well, he had to give him that, but it was all 
frantic lip movements, tongue strokes, lapping the tip of his tongue 
like it was the tip of something else. The portents were good 
for...other things...but he wanted to pull back a bit, show the boy a 
taste of something else.

He slid his hands into Jay's hair, pulling his face close. He 
delicately parted Jay's lips, running just the tip of his tongue over 
them, feeling Jay's shivers pick up speed. He licked inside Jay's 
mouth, flicking his tongue over his teeth, wrapping it around Jay's 
tongue, and then sucking hard on that trash-talking muscle.

Jay grunted, hands clenching and unclenching on the surface of his 
coat. Then they dove underneath, and Jay slid them up under his t-
shirt, stroking over his chest, tweaking his nipples. His hips shot 
forward and he broke off the kiss, gasping.

"Oh, I got you now, fucker," Jay whispered. He threw the tee up, 
capturing one of his nipples, sucking on it, sucking it `til it was 
as hard as another part of him felt. Jay licked a wet trail across 
Bob's chest, and flicked his tongue across the other one.

Fuck. He was gonna fall down. Oh, *fuck*--

*I don't think you ready for this jelly
I don't think you ready for this jelly
I don't think you ready for this
Is my body too bootylicious for you babe?*

He pulled back and grabbed Jay's hands, pulling him down the river 
bank until he couldn't see the road anymore, only the roof of the 
club. The ground was softer here, and he nodded, laying out his 
coat. He sat down, breathing hard, blinking.

Jay giggled, tugging on his sweatpants. 

**What?**

"Aw, you look so fuckin' surprised... What the hell'd you think? I was 
gonna give you some titty-twistin', and then go home and jerk off? 
*Fuck* that...I gots me a live new toy right here, I'm gonna *use* it-
-"

He tugged off the sweats, and Bob kicked them to one side as Jay 
pulled his shorts down, exposing him to the night air. Jay's hands 
wrapped around his thick cock, and his eyes grew wide.

"All for me? Fuck, yeah..."

He leaned in, giving the weeping head a lick and Bob groaned, leaning 
back. Grinning, Jay sucked in the tip, swirling that active tongue 
around the sensitive skin, taking him in an inch at a time.

Jay's mouth was warm, and wet, and felt so fucking *good* on him. He 
closed his eyes, laying down, feeling Jay suck him. About the time 
he felt Jay's hands lightly squeezing his balls, he started to moan, 
bucking his hips up, and on the third buck Jay swallowed a good third 
of his cock, fisting a hand around the base as he worked Bob down his 
throat. He pumped him in a quick succession of squeezes while Bob 
groaned and shuddered, hands clawing in the sandy earth.

He opened his eyes and nearly screamed, seeing that blond head 
bobbing up and down between his thighs.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "Fuck...yeah, Jay...God, that feels so 
*good*..."

Jay moaned, clenching his hands on Bob's hips, his own hips wildly 
gyrating against the lower hem of the coat. He pulled off Bob's 
twitching cock. His mouth was wet, and his eyes were dazed dark 
circles.

"Oh, yeah, Bob. Talk to me. Say it. *Say it*!"

And he dove down again, swallowing him into that warm, wet heat, his 
head bobbing up and down.

"Shit--so good, *too* good, oh, God, Jay, I'm gonna come--"

He was mortified--Jay'd found a way to break the silence. Shit, he 
didn't babble this much with *girls*, why the fuck with Jay? But--oh-
-Jay's *mouth*--and the--and what he was doing with--and, oh, mother 
of *God*, what Jay was doing with his *hands*...

"Oh, yeah--like that--just like that, oh, *fuck* yeah--"

He arched up, nearly crying with the force of it, nearly fucking 
Jay's face, fighting the impulse to grab his head and hold it there 
while he forced his entire length down Jay's gulping throat. It felt 
like he came for hours, hours and hours and days, felt like 
everything in him rushed forward, shooting out his cock, shooting 
into Jay, filling him. Filling him so completely with Bob he'd never 
be able to take it all.

Shuddering, twitching, breathing hard now, and falling back on the 
coat now, and Jay propping himself up, looking down at him.

"Oh, man...You taste so fuckin' good, Bob..."

And watching that blond, blond head descend again, licking him harder 
still, and feeling a groan pulled out of his body as if Jay was 
tugging on a cord attached to his soul--

Fuck, he could get used to this.

*Move your body up and down--whoo!
Make your booty touch the ground--whoo!
*I can't help but wonder why--whoo!
My vibe is too vibilicious for you babe*

Jay kissed from his cock to his upper thighs and back up again; 
kissed from his cock to his waist and up to his nipples, hard little 
knots from the exposure to the cold night air; kissed up to his mouth 
and they drowned in each other for a while, Jay lying full-length on 
him, thrusting frantically, breathing hard.

Bob slid a hand between them, tracing down the length of Jay's torso, 
slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of Jay's shorts, slipping 
around the width of his cock, realizing in that same moment he had no 
underwear on. Jay arched up, thrusting against him, gasping, nearly 
screaming, his mouth wide open and still wet around the edges.

Oh, yeah. He squeezed Jay's cock, pumping it like he pumped his own, 
when he was all alone and wanting, and Jay began to shiver, murmuring 
words he couldn't make out against his neck. They grew in volume as 
Jay's thrusts against him intensified, and slowly, he translated them 
into English.

"Help," Jay was whispering. "Please, please, gotta get naked, Bob, 
get me naked, fuck, *please*..."

*I don't think you ready for this jelly*

Sitting up took a bit of effort, but he managed to fold both of them 
into position without releasing Jay. It wasn't the easiest thing 
he'd done. Jay was now squirming against him, panting in short 
little bursts, fucking the loosened circle of his fingers. His palm 
was slick with Jay's fluids, and he'd fallen into a nice little 
groove, complete with its own distant soundtrack from the club. 
Squeeze. Stroke. Squeeze. Stroke. Pump pump squeeze and start it 
all again, and Jay was gasping for it.

Jay started kicking off his clothes, pulling his sweatshirt and the 
tee underneath over his head. He cried out when his cock got caught 
in the waistband of his shorts, and Bob pulled his hand away, pulling 
Jay's shorts down. Jay scrambled up from the haphazard pile of cloth 
he'd created and clambered onto Bob, thrusting hard against his 
thicker cock and crying out.

"Fuck yeah--fuck yeah--fuck, this is better'n--fuck!"

Bob pulled him down into another scorching kiss, feeling Jay's 
thrusts pick up speed. He pulled the blond full-length onto him, 
pressing against all those planes and angles only briefly glimpsed 
whenever Jay took off his shirt, or walked naked out of the shower.

And suddenly, with a yearning intensity that was near pain, he wanted 
Jay to fuck him. He'd never even *thought* about it before; even in 
the club, earlier, it had been only a brief sensation, more just a 
response to the word `rape'. This was different.

He growled, low in his throat, spreading his legs around Jay's waist, 
hoping he'd get the idea. Shit, they had no lube. Was it really 
necessary? He didn't think...Wait.

He turned, flipping up one side of his coat, plunging his hand into 
the deep pocket. Jay moaned, pressed hard against Bob, thrusting 
mindlessly while Bob searched.

Lighter; pack of cards; pack of smokes; water pistol; copy of 
Architectural Digest--damn! He threw the magazine aside, searched 
around again. Ohmmeter; soldering gun--*God*, Jay was driving him 
*insane*--inflatable sheep; flintlock pistol--there! He pulled out a 
familiar tube, the logo splashed on the outside in metallic blue. 
Yeah. Oh God, yeah. They had *lube*. Quickly he turned back and 
pushed it into Jay's hands.

"What the fuck--ohhh..."

Jay shuddered, all over, breathing hard.

"You--you really want me to--?"

He nodded. God, please. *Soon*.

*I don't think you ready for this jelly*

"Oh man...Oh man," Jay was saying, over and over. He nearly dropped 
the bottle of lube opening the cap, and poured a generous dollop into 
one palm, dropping the bottle when he turned his attention to lubing 
up. Bob watched his eyes cross, his hips mindlessly thrusting 
forward, and drummed his fingers impatiently on the coat.

"Um...there's, um, I'm s'posed to..." Jay looked up, his hands on 
Bob's meaty thighs.

"You're not ready."

"I don't care," Bob said hoarsely. "Fuck me."

Jay shuddered again, biting his lips.

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Hold on--"

He reached down, guiding his cock between Bob's legs, pressing the 
head against his tight puckered hole.

"You, um...this might hurt some."

Bob just nodded. He tried to relax, but just the feel of Jay's cock, 
where nobody's cock had been, to his recollection...it made him 
tremble. Jay made him tremble. Fuck, yeah.

And then--he gasped, a huge inrushing of air, because Jay had pressed 
inside. It had hurt there, for a moment, hurt terribly, but now he 
just felt...God...achingly full. It still hurt, he realized, but the 
thought of Jay inside him made him want to come again, right now. 
Right now. His hands whispered down to his waist, grabbing his cock, 
squeezing experimentally.

"Hey. Don't get fuckin' distracted."

**Hmm?** he thought, looking up.

Jay, breathing hard, looked down at him. The burning in those blue 
eyes made him twitch again, and clench around Jay's cock, and Jay 
hissed air through clenched teeth.

"Fucker! Oh, you fucker, you'll fuckin' *pay* for that--"

And he thrust inside a little more, while Bob arched off the coat, 
clutching at him. His head flailed from side to side. His eyes were 
clenched shut. Then he opened them, thinking, *God*, he wanted to 
see this. He wanted to see the expression on Jay's face, and it was 
intent, and it was serious, and looking into his eyes was still like 
watching propane burn, but it was good. Watching him. Better than 
dancing. Yeah.

Holy *fuck*--it hurt, it still hurt, but oh, it was starting to feel 
better, and, oh, God, he could feel Jay trembling, he could feel 
every inch of Jay's cock inside him, and then he pushed in *deeper*--

"Fuck!" he cried. "Fuck, yes, *please*, *please* don't stop--"

*I don't think you ready for this*

"Oh, yeah, fuck yeah--fuck, talk to me, *talk* to me, you fuckin' 
asshole, I wanna hear your voice--"

He moaned, thrusting up against Jay.

**God,** he thought. **Wanted you, never knew I wanted you, wanted 
you doing *this*, never thought about it...but God, don't make me 
talk about it, don't, don't make me--**

"Huh-uh. No more `til you talk to me."

"Fucker," Bob hissed.

"And?"

"Fuck me!"

"What else?"

"Mmm--"

"You like this?"

Bob thrust his hips towards Jay again, silently begging. Jay just 
shook his head. 

Shit!

"I *love* this," he said slowly, realizing it was true. It *was* 
true. One night, one dose of one thing, and he was suddenly sex-mad 
for boys. Great. He was a freak on party drugs. Maybe that's why 
he'd never taken them.

He looked up, still twitching a little, and almost smiled. No. Just 
Jay, he thought. He didn't want to do this for anyone else. Just 
Jay.

"Just you," he said aloud, and Jay groaned, thrusting in, thrusting 
in hard, grabbing Bob's hips and pulling him as close as he could. 
He reached down between them, running his fingertips along the length 
of Bob's cock, slick with fluids, and Bob twitched again, clenching 
down.

"Fuck, I could get used to that shit," Jay whispered.

*Is my body too bootylicious for you babe?*

And then, something entirely unfair happened. He shook his head, his 
eyes fluttering closed, and it took a tremendous effort for him to 
open them again. He felt every muscle in his body go slack. No. 
No, not now. Not now when Jay was--*No*!

"Bob? Bob? Hey...Lunchbox? You okay or what?"

Dimly, distantly, he felt Jay tapping his face, and tried to smile. 
But he was fading, he was going...he was going...

He was gone.

"Shit!"

*I shake my jelly at every chance
When I whip with my hips you slip into a trance
I'm hoping you can handle all this jelly that I have*

"Annngh."

Someone was drilling a little hole in his right temple, using a hand-
powered drill, it felt like. Bob blinked fuzzily, shielding his eyes 
from the overbright light. Had he left his reading light on? He 
looked up. Bright sunshine sprayed in a murderous burst over his 
ceiling, white and silver and yellow streaks, blinding. But the 
fixture was dark.

Or at least, the fixture wasn't on. Right.

He rolled over, squinting at the horrific brightness of the light. 
Shit. It looked like the sun had decided to defy all known laws of 
physics and just perch outside Bob's bedroom window, glaring at him 
for daring to still be asleep at whatever ungodly hour of the ayem it 
was.

What time *was* it, he thought, and peered at his alarm clock until 
the numbers resolved. 12:03 pm. So, past noon then. Why was he 
still in bed? He didn't remember staying up late last night. 

He thought back, his brain feeling rusty and old. They'd gone to the 
club, he remembered that. They'd gone to this club they hadn't been 
to before, and Jay'd left for some Jay-style wheelin' and dealin', 
saying Bob would only cramp his style. Whatever the hell *that* 
was. Fucking typical.

But yeah, he remembered that. He remembered drinking a beer, and 
watching a pretty couple of kids walk past his table, the girl in the 
pair setting a drink down in front of him. He remembered...

**I drank from it.**

Right, he remembered now. It had tasted oily and heavy, but that was 
only afterwards--the initial swallows were pure and warming, rich and 
good.

Okay, so the brain still works. But what happened after that? He 
shook his head, causing a rippling headache to awaken, making his 
eyes cross with the sudden pain of it. He couldn't remember. Shit. 
He must have downed a *ton* of the hard stuff after that to erase his 
memory. He even remembered what happened when he was drunk off his 
ass and lying half-in and half-out of Margot Johnson's swimming pool--

"Mmm," said Jay, snuggling closer.

Just for a brief and mildly hysterical moment, he thought he'd lost 
his eyebrows. They'd shot so far up his forehead he thought they'd 
actually taken off and flown into some soft, shadowed corner to 
recover. 

He watched as Jay draped a loose, boneless arm across his belly, and 
then stopped breathing for a moment as the hand dropped to his waist, 
the fingers moving down to curl around his--

**Oh, GOD--**

He must have made some sound, strangled back in his throat, because 
Jay sat up, smiling sleepily. He didn't let go.

"Oh, you're `wake. Good. C'n I..." He bit his lips, looking 
bashful, even as his hips thrust forward, thrusting the bulge in his 
sweats against Bob's right hip.

**Um. What?**

Before he could pull away, before he could shake his head, Jay moved 
his head to Bob's waist, and pulled the front of his sweats down. 
Morning wood, Bob expected, though he was a little harder than 
mornings usually made him. Then Jay swallowed him whole, the blond 
sucking him in inch by slow inch, staring at him sidewise through the 
sheafs of his hair.

**Holy...fuck...He's good at this. He's really fucking *good*--**

**Yeah, and you're just going to let your roommate go down on you?**

**Um--**

"Ah!" he cried out, aloud, as the tip of his cock slid down Jay's 
throat, the muscles gripping him like a warm vise. Jay began bobbing 
his head up and down, his cheeks hollowed out with the suction he was 
applying, and, oh, fuck, *oh* fuck, he was going to come and fucking 
*quick* at this rate--

**Yeah, I think so--** he thought hysterically, and arched his hips 
towards Jay's sweet mouth, feeling pressure build, feeling his balls 
draw up, that twitchy tingle in the abdomen that meant all good 
things--

"Jay--" he gasped. "Gonna--gonna--Jay, hold on, I'm too close--"

Jay pulled off, licking the tip of his cock, grinning.

"Nah. I want you to come. You're shit outta luck, fat ass."

And he swallowed him again, pulling, and reaching down at the same 
time, sliding a finger into his ass. 

**FUCK!**

He clenched around Jay's finger, and that was enough, that was too 
much, and he sprayed come into Jay's mouth, pulse after pulse of hot 
fluid. Bob twitched and trembled, shuddering all over when he 
realized Jay swallowed. Jay was still swallowing, in fact, tongue 
laving his cock in wet heat, licking up every drop. Fuck. Holy fuck.

*I don't think you ready for this jelly
I don't think you ready for this jelly*

And then Jay raised his head, grinning at him.

"You gonna pass out again?"

**Again?**

He shook his head. He didn't think so.

"Good." He leaned over, pulling his sweatpants down the rest of the 
way, then shucking his own off, reaching for the lube by the bedside 
table. For a moment, Jay was pressed against him, his nearly 
hairless chest rubbing against Bob's darkly furred one, and he moaned 
again. Jay only smiled, sitting up with the lube.

"Wanna finish what I started," he said, rubbing lube into his cock. 
He parted Bob's legs, looking up in time to see his eyes bug out.

"Aww. You a little confused or somethin'?"

**Something like that,** he thought. Yesterday, Jay would've called 
him gay if he caught him masturbating in his own room. Today, he 
swallowed. Was he still dreaming?

"Mm. Tell you later, then. Right now--"

He slid a finger back into Bob, rotating it in a circle, then curling 
it, pulling slightly, hooked into a part of Bob that made him breathe 
hard, gasping. He thought back to what he knew of anatomy. The 
finger curled inside him again and he suddenly understood, 
shivering. That would be the prostate.

*His* prostate.

"Yup," Jay said, and for a moment, Bob thought he'd responded to what 
he'd been thinking. He pulled that twisting finger out, and pressed 
something else against him, and Bob shuddered through another breath.

**He's not going to--he wouldn't--he'd never--**

**FUCK!**

*I don't think you ready for this*

END
(Song lyrics taken from "Bootylicious [Can You Handle This?]" by 
Destiny's Child; all lyrics not included, and some lyrics changed 
around)
*****
Kelandris the Mad
journalistic acidosis